intothewastesfandomcom-20200214-history
Chapter 8: The Subject
The fluid burned beneath his skin as the needle was withdrawn. The masked doctor refused to meet his eyes. Vision constricted with red. Hands lashed out against immovable restraints. Bolted to the wall. Wires falling from his body. The voice again. “Begin” His Restraints gone. Can't the touch wires. He stepped forward. Two before him, one blue one green. “Do not touch the one in green.” The blade still on the table. Both move forward. Grab blue, fling to the ground. Hamstring, elbow tendon, kidney, carotid artery. No longer blue. Green bangs on the door. Nothing. He knows only the doctors get to use it. Back of the head, strike against wall, three across the neck. “Failure to obey orders!” Wires come alive, and he falls forward into the pool of green. Wake up, skin like ice from the needle. “Aggression unacceptably high. Two unprovoked acts of aggression. Obey orders!” Restraints gone. Red and blue. Both restrained. “Do not touch either one.” Knife on the table. His hand closed around the hilt before the wires came alive again. His vision slowly returned, and he was back in his cell. Jefferson slowly sat up and looked down, once again he was drenched in blood that was not his own, with only vague recollection of where it had come from. He peeled the soaked clothing off and threw it towards the doorway before he began pacing aimlessly, occasionally casting scowls at the one way mirror he knew the doctors watched him through. They put a metal grate over it to stop him from punching through it so he could get a shard of glass to kill himself with. There was fresh paint on the wall, covering the lines he had scratched to tell himself how long he had been here. Why they cared was beyond him. He rubbed his head and found stubble. Must have been a few days since he was last shaved. They did that when he was under as well. He stood in front of the mirror and stared directly at himself and chanted. “I am Jefferson Sopol. They will not break me. I am Jefferson Sopol. They will not break me. I am Jefferson Sopol. They will not break me. I am Jefferson Sopol. They will not break me.” Wake up. Pain. Kill. Wake up. Pain. Kill. Wake up. Pain. Kill. Wake up. Pain. Kill. Wake up. Pain. Kill. Wake up. Pain. Kill. Wake up. Pain. Kill. Wake up. Pain. Kill. Wake up. Pain. Kill. Wake up. Pain. Kill. Wake up. Pain. Kill. Wake up. Pain. Kill. Wake up. Pain. Kill. Wake up. Pain. Kill. Wake up. Pain. Kill. Wake up. Pain. Kill. ' ' Today was different. He wasn't sure how. The doctors must have been more tense. He could see three new people standing in the watch room. Injection. Deep pulsing pain. “Self defense. Only those with weapons.” Six colors. Three had blades. Under the sword. Stand, blade through jaw. One. Take sword. Two across the chest. Two. Block attack. Tackle. Strangle. Three. Decapitate. Four. Remove arm. Throat. Five. Electricity. Nothing. ' '''He woke again. Still restrained. Out of the corner of his eye he watched a man in a very ornate uniform shouting at one of the doctors. Another figure shoved a pistol against the back of another doctor, a sharp crack and a dull thump. The figure stepped towards him, occasionally stopping to shoot something on the floor that he could not see. “What should I do with him?” The figure asked the uniform. “Bring him. Can't come back empty handed.” The figure broke one of his restraints before putting a cuff around his arm. The second restraint went, and his arms were cuffed behind his back. Once he was free the figure pushed him forward, past the bodies of the other doctors, bloody holes leering at him as he walked forward. “What's your name soldier?” The uniform asked. “I am… I… I am… I. I. I don't. I don't have one… I did… But…” He stared blankly forward swaying where he stood. The figure grabbed the surviving doctor and shoved a pistol in the white coated man's mouth. “Where are your records?” The figure demanded. “Back room.” The doctor spoke around the barrel of the weapon. “Perfect.” The figure said and stalked off. The uniform was examining the bodies strewn across the laboratory when the figure returned with several large folders. “This is everything. Now what?” “We leave.” The uniform snapped, before executing the remaining doctor. “What is your name?” He asked the figure. “Alexi Talanov. We'll figure out who you are. Don't worry.” ' ''' “In the years before the Battle of Agnorak a great many things happened in the darkness. In the search of the ultimate weapon against the wastes a great many evils were committed. The events of those days will never be know, the history scrubbed out by kill teams at night. It is for the best.” Colonel Rezlin Armatov. Head of internal technical intelligence, second fleet.